The Black Shriving (Chronicles of the Black Gate Book 2) Read Free Page A

ghastly manner past withdrawn lips. Lying face down, the corpse was covered in a white cloak that collapsed into sections and dust when he touched it. Reverently, feeling a sense of melancholy and wonder, he turned the body over. It weighed as little as a bundle of twigs and moved just as stiffly. A large gash had laid open its chest, and Audsley leaned down to examine the wound. It was hard to make out, but he thought he could see broken ribs beneath the cloth, whose edge was slightly darker with long-disappeared blood.
    Something glittered and caught his eye. A pendant was clasped around its neck on a slender chain. Audsley picked it up and raised it as high as he could, the links going taut. A small sunburst, he saw, of rich red gold. He blinked and stared off into the middle distance. He'd seen the like during his studies. An ancient symbol, but from where?
    It was on the tip of his tongue. An order. An ancient collective.
    Oh.
    Oh.
    Audsley dropped the necklace and rose shakily to his feet. "Tiron?"
    The knight raised his head, face pale, lines carved deeply into his face. "What is it?"
    "Tiron, I just discovered something." Excitement pulsed through Audsley's stomach. Excitement? No, terror. "I think I know where we are."

 
     
    CHAPTER TWO
     

     
     
    Dawn had broken unseen behind the eastern curvature of the mountains that cupped Mythgræfen Hold like a clawed hand might cradle a ruined toy. Precariously set on its tiny island, its walls nearly following the shore, the hold was little more than dappled shadows and fallen stone, the sole sentry up top on the wall so still he might have been a permanent fixture. The ravens brooded on secrets all of their own within the lone oak tree that grew in a twisted manner before the shattered front gate. Mist rose in knotted spirals from the black water of the lake, making the rare call of a mountain bird seem ghostly, muffled, coming from a far distance.
    Asho stepped out into the central courtyard contained within the Hold's walls. Aspen saplings grew there, their roots chewing up the flagstones, their trunks and bare branches luminous in the soft lavender light of dawn. The bodies and rusted weaponry that they had found upon first arriving had been cleared away, leaving a rough and uneven floor on which to exercise and work, and the wounded from the battle with Kitan's forces had been moved into the great hall for warmth.
    Despite the hour, Asho saw, he wasn't the first one out here.
    Kethe was exercising behind the screen of pale saplings. She was clothed only in breeches, knee-high boots and a pale sleeveless tunic wrapped tight at the waist with a long sash.
    Asho hesitated. He almost turned to head out the gate, to find his own quiet corner to train. But then her movements caught him, hooked him, and he stood still, hands on hips, and watched.
    Once, Kethe had been the pampered daughter of Lord Enderl Kyferin, the fearsome leader of the Black Wolves and lord of Kyferin Castle. Her days had been filled with needlework and gently riding her palfrey over the hills. Her life had been that of a noblewoman, pampered and easy, prickled by irritations that only a wealthy young woman would even notice.
    No longer. She held her blade in one hand with ease. It wasn't a massive weapon, despite having a hand-and-a-half hilt - she'd not be cleaving any men in half with it - but the sustained stamina needed to keep it swinging precisely so, to control it with such finesse, was impressive. Taut muscles played across her arms and shoulders. There was a feline grace to her sweeps and thrusts, her parries and spins. He'd never seen anything like it. Her freckled face was fierce in its focus, her wide lips pulled into a tense line, her eyes narrowed as she fought an endless array of opponents. Her hair, which the sun could set to smoldering, was bound back in a tight bun. There was nothing of the noblewoman to her now beyond her poise and composure. Asho had seen her fight. Had seen her